


variations of a theme: nights

by aquamarine_nebula



Series: variations of themes [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Falling In Love, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Mild Smut, Sharing a Bed, Yuuri accidentally breaks hearts wherever he goes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-01 19:58:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10928997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquamarine_nebula/pseuds/aquamarine_nebula
Summary: 5 separate nights spent in Hasetsu.





	variations of a theme: nights

i

“You have my mobile number, right?”

Yuuri looked up from his uninspiring dinner, pausing to glower at Viktor’s half-empty bowl of katsudon, and frowned at Viktor. He sounded so sure, although Yuuri couldn’t fathom why. Maybe all the skaters typically had each other’s numbers. Maybe they had group texts and inside jokes and he’d accidentally rejected it all with his asocial tendencies.

Logically, he knew that was ridiculous. Phichit would have _told_ him if there was a wider group chat than the one between the two of them, Leo and Guang-Hong. But still he let the thought run its course and leave his head.

Regardless, he and Viktor had spoken maybe two times before he showed up in Hasetsu, so why _would_ he have his number?

“No? Why would I?” he asked.

Viktor visibly flinched, which only confused Yuuri more, but he had to be fine, because he was looking at Yuuri with a bright smile. “Give me your phone, Yuuri,” he ordered.

Partially the strong tone, partially the fact that this was _Viktor Nikiforov_ and Yuuri would probably do anything he asked, had Yuuri handing it over immediately.

“What’s your passcode?” he asked.

“My birthday.”

He tutted something about safety and how easy that was to guess, but inputted it as Yuuri shook his head to clear the fog. This was getting ridiculous. Viktor could tell him to strip and pole dance on a telegraph pole and a part of Yuuri worried that he’d actually do it, because it was _Viktor Nikiforov_ that was asking.

“Don’t lose it,” he said, locking the phone and passing it back, before eyeing the dregs of katsudon with a sigh and leaving to bring it to the kitchen. Yuuri blinked at the spot he’d just vacated, and looked down at the screen before unlocking it again. It opened straight to his contact page, where ‘ _Viktor_ ’, along with an alarming number of hearts was listed as his newest contact.

It was probably rude not to text him so he had his number too, and Viktor _was_ his coach, so he sent ‘ _why all the hearts?_ ’ and watched as Viktor pulled his phone from his pocket as he was talking to Mari.

Viktor didn’t look at him, but Yuuri could see his smile as he replied, and when his phone vibrated against the table he looked down to see a single winky face that made him laugh out loud.

The onslaught of text messages that night was unprecedented for someone who could just talk at the wall and be heard. Yuuri would know, he’d spent a couple of restless nights since Viktor arrived listening to him talk on the phone—either in Russian or French, so he didn’t feel bad for eavesdropping—but Yuuri couldn’t complain. They were… _cute_.

> _Makkachin wants to say goodnight!_

>> _well goodnight to him too_

> _Download image?_

> _Image downloaded_

> _cute, right?_

It was. Yuuri tried to ignore the fact that Viktor was topless in his selfie with Makkachin—he saw the man naked on a daily _basis_ , this should be nothing—and sent back a heart, which Viktor replied to with an obnoxiously long line of hearts.

> _I heard you laughing_

>> _the walls are thin_

>> _to be fair you don’t need to text me I could probably hear you if you talked_

>> _I hear you baby talking to makkachin all the time_

> _it’s part of my charm_

> _who would want to go out with a man that doesn’t baby talk to their dog? Especially one as cute as makkachin_

This was paired with another photo, this time of Makkachin as a puppy, with what must have been twelve year old Viktor, all big blue eyes and fluffy silver hair down to his shoulders and blowing in the wind. The puppy was gathered in his arms. Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat. There weren’t many casual photos of Viktor before social media became a thing; his guardians seemed to have been careful in not sharing too much of his personal life, and seeing a Viktor without the steely, competitive determination in his eyes was enough to have his heart aching and yearning for…something he couldn’t quite articulate.

> _still just as cute now_

He sent another recent photo through, of Makkachin sitting in the snow in a little woollen jumper and looking up at the camera with devotion clear in his eyes.

> _did you bring that jumper with you?_

>> _yes I did_

>> _also the matching human-sized one_

>> _why don’t you come into my room and see? ;p_

If he knew how little phrases like that affected Yuuri, had the freer part of his mind begging him to just go _in_ there and see what happened, he wouldn’t flirt like that. Yuuri choked back the wave of disappointment and curled up onto his side.

> _it’s late, viktor_

>> _okay. Sleep well, sweetheart xxx_

> _sleep well_

ii

Although Viktor was still physically demonstrative and affectionate, it had toned down significantly since their talk on the beach, and Yuuri couldn’t help but be equal parts relieved and disappointed about this change. A part of him had been revelling in some sort of fantasy dream-world, where Viktor was affectionate for a reason _other_ than him being naturally flirtatious and maybe having a need for validation. Every touch now seemed to have a purpose, to push him a bit further into his stretch, to demonstrate from where he was currently pushing and from where he needed to push, when they were messing around and practicing lifts.

So…better and worse. It was different if _he_ instigated, by pressing into Viktor’s warmth if they were sitting beside each other, sometimes reaching over to take his hand when they were walking home after training. Viktor would shift automatically if Yuuri did that, so that he could settle more comfortably, change his stride so he was completely in step with Yuuri. They were slowly working through a line, and Yuuri wasn’t quite sure what kind of intimacy lay on the other side, whether purely physical, purely spiritual, or a mixture of both.

His confusion about where they were going and how they would get there bled into his routines, and one evening after a long day of cross-training and then skating Viktor stopped him halfway through _Eros_ to stare at him in confusion for a while.

Yuuri bit back on the sarcastic, angry retort he really wanted to make—he was angry at _himself_ , after all, never at Viktor—and raked both his hands through his hair with a sharp exhale.

“I know,” he said dully. The problem was, he couldn’t parse through his feelings for Viktor, and Viktor was so ingrained into his skating that he’d always skated for _him_ , long before Viktor ever asked him to. The problem was, _Eros_ and _Yuri on Ice_ were wildly different accounts of similar stories. The problem was, he _couldn’t tell Viktor_.

Viktor would be horrified if he knew how much Yuuri cared for him, as more than a coach, more than even a friend. He knew that Yuuri had a tendency to idol-worship him, but was working through that quickly by accidentally showing off his wide array of endearing flaws. Right at this point, he was at an awkward stage between ‘ _I am so attracted to you_ ’ and ‘ _what we have transcends anything physical_ ’, and he couldn’t fit them into a cohesive pattern.

Viktor watched him silently.

“I _know_ ,” Yuuri repeated.

“What do you know, Yuuri?”

“That I’m communicating nothing with my skating.”

Viktor made a small sound of contemplation and tapped his finger against his lips. Which didn’t help Yuuri’s train of thought. “At least you know.”

Yuuri winced, but couldn’t begrudge him that observation.

“What do you want to communicate with _Eros_ , Yuuri?”

“It’s your choreography,” Yuuri grumbled under his breath. Viktor gave no clue about having heard except for a slight tightening around his eyes. “I don’t know. Seduce the audience, I guess?” He winced at the thought. Surely it was presumptuous to assume that he could seduce anyone, let alone an entire audience.

Viktor seemed particularly displeased at that, and Yuuri froze. “Well…it’s _Eros_ , right? So it’s about seduction.”

“How so?”

Yuuri paused. He wasn’t made for this type of honest discussion. He’d kept any mentions of his sexuality between him and the few partners he’d had in Detroit, not broadcasted them to the entire world. “Physical seduction.”

Viktor shook his head. “No. That’s not the only part of it. _Eros_ is a jealous, possessive type of love. Not necessarily something unhealthy, but…” He skated up to Yuuri and cupped his cheek, tracing his bottom lip with his thumb, his eyes darkening into something primal. “It’s a demand to look only at you, as a celebration of beauty in its purest form.” He tilted his head, his fringe brushing over his forehead. “Skate so that the only person I can see, the only person I could ever _want_ to see, is you. So that you become beauty itself to me.”

Yuuri’s knees were weak when Viktor dropped his hand. He would never be able to do that, he knew, but Viktor was so convinced that he _could_.

“I’ll start the music. Get into position.”

Yuuri wasn’t sure if he imagined the low tone to Viktor’s voice, but it still sent a shiver through him. One night. He just had to capture and hold Viktor’s entire being for one night.

He skated to the centre, cocked his hip, and even if he knew it would hurt later, let himself truly feel all the desire he had for Viktor.

iii

In general, Viktor, and his high training load, had become such a distraction that Yuuri hardly had the time or strength to think. For that reason, he had started to hate days off. Especially days off where Viktor would explore by himself, and parts of Yuuri’s mind would think about how easy it would be for him to take the train to Fukuoka and then fly back to St Petersburg.

(Luckily, Viktor didn’t leave much room to worry about it, sending him pictures of things he’d discovered, which Yuuri responded to with just as much enthusiasm even though he’d seen them almost every day of his life. He always told Yuuri exactly when he was back, and once he stepped over the threshold said ‘ _I’m home!_ ’ with relief and obvious happiness. Yuuri wondered when he’d decided that the ice was no longer his home. Yuuri’s mother would greet him and fuss over him as if he was Yuuri or Mari, and he would settle next to Yuuri and lean into him as if Yuuri’s heart wasn’t going triple speed in his chest.)

But sometimes, even the most bone-deep exhaustion wasn’t enough to keep the demons at bay. He sent messages to Phichit, but kept the tone light and happy, not wanting to waste what was now precious time with his best friend by dragging him into his troubles. It probably didn’t work—Phichit was scarily competent at figuring out his moods—but he didn’t push for an explanation, just sent him pictures of his sister’s new dog with a myriad of heart-eye emojis.

Even that wasn’t distracting enough. He bid Phichit goodbye, and found himself staring at the wall that separated his room and Viktor’s. They’d spent enough time in each other’s rooms by now. Viktor, for some reason, delighted in dropping in unannounced in the mornings to wake Yuuri by dropping onto his bed and pulling him into his arms, and half the choreography discussions had been in Viktor’s room. He hadn’t completely given up with asking Yuuri to sleep together, either.

Yuuri let out a sigh, for some unknown reason smoothed down his hair, and padded to Viktor’s room. Makkachin lifted his head with a doggy smile and wagged his tail as soon as Yuuri slid open the door, but Viktor was still soundly sleeping. Ah, _that_ was probably why Yuuri had subconsciously smoothed down his hair. Even asleep, when any _reasonable_ human being would look awful, Viktor looked like he’d dropped off the pages of a fairytale.

Makkachin army crawled along the bed to beg affection from Yuuri, dragging Viktor’s covers down with him, and Viktor frowned in his sleep. When Yuuri said his name, his eyes opened, and softened inexplicably when they met Yuuri’s.

“I can’t sleep,” Yuuri mumbled, focussed on petting Makkachin, wondering if Viktor would laugh and mock him at the childish reason.

Instead, his face lit up, and he pulled the covers from under Makkachin. “Want to sleep here?” he asked. Yuuri nodded, and climbed into bed beside Viktor before he could psyche himself out. Viktor immediately wrapped himself around Yuuri, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as Yuuri pressed against him.

(A while later, he overheard Mari asking his mother, “When did Yuuri start sleeping in Viktor’s room?”

He dropped his chopsticks with a loud clatter, but stared resolutely into his rice as Viktor startled and asked him what was wrong.

“About a week, I think?” his mother answered. Yuuri groaned and they both shot him amused looks as Viktor looked between them all with wide eyes. “That’s when I noticed it anyway.”

“What’s wrong?” Viktor asked again, putting his hand on Yuuri’s.

“Nothing,” Yuuri mumbled, his face heating up, but some part of himself he didn’t particularly want to acknowledge was pleased that people knew he and Viktor were…something.

Viktor gave him a small, encouraging smile, and kissed his cheek. Yuuri attempted not to make plans to commit homicide when Mari winked and gave him two thumbs-up.)

iv

Viktor fell asleep against his shoulder on the way back from the airport.

Yuuri wasn’t surprised, he’d looked exhausted and unravelled in a way that Yuuri had never even believed he could be. He knew what relief Viktor felt at that moment because he felt it too; Makkachin was safe across their laps and the two of them were finally together again. Viktor didn’t stir when he pressed a kiss to the top of his head, didn’t stir when the train stopped at the stations between Fukuoka and Hasetsu, and Yuuri gently shook him awake when they arrived at Hasetsu. An hour’s sleep wasn’t enough to make Viktor look any more alive, but he still kissed the corner of Yuuri’s mouth, and took one of his suitcases. Their free hands found each other by instinct, and Makkachin followed them through the darkened streets. The onsen was dark and quiet, and Yuuri watched silently as Viktor removed his shoes, sighing in contentment as he crossed the threshold, the last of the tension melting from his shoulders as if he’d come home.

He startled a little when Yuuri stepped up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist, kissing his nape.

Something had shifted. Yuuri wasn’t quite sure what, but when Viktor’s breath stopped and his hands caught Yuuri’s to keep them in place, he knew that Viktor could feel it as well. He said nothing as Yuuri took the scarf from around his neck, turning so Yuuri could push his coat off his shoulders and do the same to Yuuri. He was afraid to speak, that he would break this spell between them. The purest communication between them was always that which didn’t need words, and when Viktor took his hand and lead him to Yuuri’s room, Makkachin trotting into Viktor’s, Yuuri knew they didn’t need words.

When Viktor kissed him, it felt like the first time. The world narrowed to nothing but their points of contact, the way Viktor gasped against his mouth when Yuuri pressed their bodies together, even through layers of clothes. He backed Yuuri up against the door, and the muffled _thump_ was cacophonous in the silence they’d created.

Yuuri played with the button at the top of his shirt. “Okay?” he whispered, almost silently. He felt, rather than heard, the _yes, please_ , against his lips, and quickly worked at it until he could discard the fabric to the floor as Viktor pulled away for the second it took to take off Yuuri’s jumper. Viktor pulled him to the bed, his hands shaking against Yuuri’s skin as they splayed across his back, and Yuuri straddled his lap as soon as he sat, heat pooling low in his stomach as Viktor pulled him closer and kissed him with a little more desperation.

There was something poetic about it, Yuuri thought with a small curve of his lips as Viktor lowered him, not breaking the kiss off. He’d spent so much of his life looking up at the posters in this spot and thinking about what it would be like to skate on the same ice as Viktor, to be his equal. And with accepting each other in this way, as well as the myriad of other ways, they had become equals. Yuuri no longer saw Viktor as an unreachable deity, someone to aim for but never quite reach.

He could feel Viktor mirroring his smile, breaking away to press kisses along his jaw and down his neck. “What?” he asked between kisses.

“Nothing,” Yuuri breathed, although he couldn’t help the smile that broke across his face. Viktor looked at him, hair still dishevelled and fatigue betrayed in his eyes, but still looked at him as if they were the only people in existence, as if he’d searched for years and finally found what he was looking for. “I’m happy,” he continued, and Viktor fluttered kisses over his cheeks and forehead and chin until Yuuri was breathless with holding back laughter.

He finally pulled away, enough to hold his hips, tracing along his waistband questioningly until Yuuri nodded, and swiftly divesting them of the rest of their clothes. Yuuri raised himself to meet Viktor in another kiss, tugging at his shoulders until they’d switched positions and he could kiss and touch as much as he wanted. Viktor let out little sounds that betrayed his pleasure, ran his hands along Yuuri’s sides and his back as Yuuri arched into them. Clumsily, he took off his glasses to place them out of the way on the bedside table and dug through the drawer to find the bottle of lube. Uncapping it with shaking hands, he squeezed the bottle a bit too impatiently and felt Viktor jerk, a yelp muffled against Yuuri’s mouth as the cold gel hit his chest. Yuuri jolted back, groaning as Viktor muffled laughter into his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he said, though he couldn’t help smiling in response to Viktor’s laughter. Viktor was always beautiful, of _course_ he was always beautiful, but right now, with pure delight and adoration in his eyes he’d never been more so.

“It’s fine, zolotse,” he said, reaching up to run his fingers through Yuuri’s hair and drawing him close again. “You’re perfect.” He laughed again when Yuuri sighed and collected the lube from where it had splattered against his chest, and it melted into a moan as Yuuri finally took his length into his hand and moved experimentally. No teenage fantasy or previous partner could have prepared him for it, the way he dropped his head back and bared his throat, the way his breath hitched and his legs tightened around Yuuri’s waist, the way he rocked his hips up into Yuuri’s hand. The moment was building to eternity, electricity crackling along Yuuri’s spine as he pressed desperate, open-mouthed kisses to his neck and met the movement of Viktor’s hips with his own. When he did, Viktor gasped out his name in a plea, his hand pressing against the small of Yuuri’s back as Yuuri pulled him back to a kiss that tore everything from him.

It didn’t take long for Viktor to finish, and Yuuri committed everything to memory, seared it into his mind carefully, from the way he said Yuuri’s name to the contented affection in his eyes when he came down from the high. That it was _Viktor Nikiforov_ beneath him, looking at him in such a way and pulling him into a final kiss as his hand joined Yuuri’s was enough for him to follow. It wasn’t the most earth-shattering orgasm he’d ever experienced, but he’d never felt so much like they were bearing souls rather than just bodies. The final piece slotted into place, and he _knew_ Viktor, knew his hopes and dreams as he already knew his love.

He seemed close to tears when Yuuri opened his eyes, and Yuuri brushed his hair back. “What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling back, wondering if somehow he’d hurt Viktor, but Viktor trapped him against his chest.

“Nothing,” he answered. “I’m…overwhelmed, I think. I didn’t know that it would feel so…” he trailed off, and Yuuri pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“I know,” he answered. He still felt exposed and raw, even with how safe he felt. Quickly, he leant towards the still-open bedside drawer to pull a few tissues out to clean them up, aware of Viktor’s gaze, hot and heavy on him. Viktor tugged him straight back down once he threw them in the general vicinity of the bin.

He was lulled to sleep by the quietening and slowing beat of Viktor’s heart, and let himself hope that it would be the same way for the remainder of his life.

v

“You don’t actually flirt with people a lot, do you?”

Viktor had been intently watching a video of Yuuri’s free skate at the Rostelecom Cup as Yuuri pretended to watch but was actually entirely focussed on the way the lights played along the planes of Viktor’s face and danced in his eyes.

He paused the video and looked at Yuuri curiously. Yuuri wasn’t sure when they had gotten so comfortable in each other’s presence that they could be naked in bed together, not even after having sex, but just for the comfort derived from feeling skin against skin, but he would never complain. Even if it wasn’t meant to last, and Viktor decided to go back to Russia without him, this was a memory and feeling he could treasure jealously for the rest of his life.

“Rarely, unless I’m in front of the cameras.”

Yuuri shook his head and hooked his arm around Viktor’s, tangling their legs together as Viktor put his phone to one side. “I don’t understand, then. Where did the playboy image come from?”

The easy intimacy in how Viktor brushed Yuuri’s fringe back from his eyes had his heart twist for a moment, and he almost thought he betrayed that on his face, but Viktor was too far away to notice. “I think it’s because I tended to have a few boyfriends a year when I was a teenager. And sometimes I would date a couple of people at the same time. Nothing serious, because no one understood why I was putting so much time and effort into skating. And they’d always comment on how bruised I was and how unattractive that was.” He smiled and smoothed away Yuuri’s frown with a kiss. “I never minded what they said. You’re the first serious relationship I’ve had, and the only one in…” he paused. “I think about five years. But by that time my ‘reputation’ was set. Yakov and I decided to use it to our advantage.”

“It didn’t bother you?”

“Not really. Your opinion is the only one that matters to me.”

He sighed when Yuuri kissed his shoulder, and manoeuvred them until they were under the covers and lying down facing each other.

“But…”

“Hm?”

Yuuri chewed on the inside of his lip. “You flirted with me.”

“What?”

“When you first got here you flirted with me.”

Viktor let out a small laugh, almost a giggle, and looked away, whining out Yuuri’s name when he sat up to stare at him. “What are you looking at?” he said, trying to pout but not able to stop the brilliant smile from breaking out.

Yuuri poked at the tell-tale pink on his cheeks, pinning Viktor’s hands over his head as he tried to bat him away. “You’re _blushing_ ,” he exclaimed, watching in wonder as the blush deepened.

“Of course I am,” Viktor grumbled. “You don’t _point out_ when someone is flirting with you. That’s bad manners. You’re supposed to flirt back.”

Yuuri tilted his head to one side. “Isn’t it a bit late for that?”

Viktor gave him an unimpressed look, cocking one eyebrow. “You’re telling me?”

“O-oh.” He settled back against the pillows and Viktor propped himself up on one elbow.

“See, because I have _good_ manners I won’t be pointing out that you’re blushing right now,” he said lightly, kissing his cheek.

“So why did you flirt with me?”

“Why did I flirt with you?” He had an odd tone to his voice, and Yuuri pointlessly worried that he would say something like _‘because you were the only available male close to my age_ ’. That wasn’t true, he _knew_ it wasn’t, but his mind still played treacherous tricks on him. “Because I had a massive crush on you.” He said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, something that Yuuri could never have doubted.

Yuuri blinked. That, he _hadn’t_ been expecting.

“Honestly, my feelings did take me by surprise. At some points I thought it was love at first sight, but if I compare how I feel _now_ with how I did then,” he stopped, watching Yuuri pensively. “Well, it isn’t comparable. I mean, the intense physical attraction is still there, obviously—”

“Still?” Yuuri asked weakly.

“—but it’s _more_ now. You know what I mean?”

Yuuri was _pretty_ sure what he meant. At least, he knew in the way that it was how he’d developed his feelings for Viktor from first sight to now, tangled in bed as if the world outside didn’t exist. But there had to be something he was missing, because _why_ would Viktor’s feelings be so close to Yuuri’s?

(A part of him rejoiced, maybe, if Viktor spoke the truth, it meant that he wouldn’t go back to Russia alone, he’d let Yuuri come and slot himself into his life the way Viktor had into his own. The more rational part scoffed and told him not to get his hopes up.)

“So…your feelings now?”

Viktor’s eyes softened. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m in love with you.”

Yuuri stared at him, feeling as if the world had been torn under him only to let him fall somewhere infinitely better. He reached up to cup Viktor’s cheek.

“I’m in love with you too,” he replied, and the sweet smile Viktor gave him was compensation enough for his fear of putting his heart on the line. Viktor ducked in to kiss him, chaste but lingering and Yuuri wondered how he ever managed to live without this soul-deep connection to Viktor. He was dazed when Viktor pulled away, and gathered him into his arms, unwilling to leave any space between them.

“Sleep,” Viktor said, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m waking you early tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> in case it's not clear:  
> i set sometime between Viktor's arrival and a week after Yurio leaves Hasetsu (left it vague so it's up to personal interpretation whether it's pre- or post-Onsen on Ice  
> ii set about 3 weeks after Onsen on Ice  
> iii set between part ii and the regional competition  
> iv set the night Yuuri returns to Hasetsu from Moscow  
> v set a few days before they leave for Barcelona


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